Here Be Dragons: Book 1 of the Emergence Series

Fathom's head snapped up to the sky. "Kado?" he angrily hissed.

"Who is that?" Pryce worriedly asked as he followed Fathom's line of sight, though he couldn't see the source of the roar.

"That is Ighen," Fathom spat venomously. "He want to fight. I will be back."

"Wait, what?" Pryce demanded, interposing himself between Fathom and the exit. "Why? You can get hurt!"

"He fight me around four times in one year. Is common, and I always win," Fathom chuffed, brushing him off. "And if I do not fight, he will fly around my territory and see ship. If Ighen tell other dragons about humans, things will bad."

"I…" Pryce faltered, realizing he just had to trust Fathom. "What if he try to kill you?"

"He cannot," Fathom snorted. "Fight to kill has rules. Most important rules are dragons must say yes to fight, and other dragons must see fight."

Pryce frowned as he pressed his lips into a thin line. "Okay, but-"

Fathom flicked his spines in irritation, glancing outside as another roar pierced the skies – closer this time.

"I explain later," Fathom said dismissively as he moved to leave.

"...Be careful," Pryce cautioned, stepping aside.

"I will return," Fathom reassured, and stepped out of the cave to sprint westward up the mountain.

Unsure of what to do, Pryce slowly sat himself down on a rock. After a minute he decided to take inventory, but he'd only packed his bags for a short trip, and the only really useful tools he had with him were the rifle and the binoculars. He could try to watch the duel with the latter, but Fathom had departed to the west, behind the mountain. Even if he had a line of sight, it didn't seem like a good idea to position himself where Ighen could see him.

With nothing better to do Pryce set about cleaning and maintaining the rifle, hoping that he would not have to use it.

Another challenging roar rang through the air as Hironh sprang up the mountainside. Duels were normally preceded by a thorough discussion of rules and stakes, but Ighen had challenged Hironh so many times now that this was no longer necessary. Hironh was certain that the coward was here for another no-stakes duel, just like all the other fights that they'd had over the years.

It didn't take long for Hironh to reach his first destination – a cliff that often had the strongest updraft in his territory. The blue dragon's great wings snapped to their fullest extent as they caught the thermals, and he roared his acceptance of the duel as he spiraled up to meet his opponent.

Ighen was still some distance away, which gave Hironh some time to plan; Ighen was a mediocre combatant at best, but beating him wasn't the issue. The real problem was that the coward might see Pryce's ship, which was fortunately positioned behind the mountain.

That outcome could not be allowed to happen, so in short Hironh would have to fight Ighen while keeping the ship out of view, all without arousing any suspicion…which might be a little difficult, especially with his damaged wing membrane that was still a day or two from fully healing. The tiny cut was more of an annoyance than anything, but Hironh was all too familiar with how the smallest things could affect the outcome of a fight.

It took several beats for the two dragons to close the distance between them, and soon they began to circle one another at the distance customary to the start of an engagement.

«Back again, are you?» Hironh roared, his spines flared out with the provocation.

«As many times as it takes,» Ighen hissed. «That cut on your wing doesn't look like it's from another person. Don't tell me you've hurt yourself hunting.»

«What, this? It's just a scratch I got while taking care of some raptors,» Hironh snorted, slowly allowing the wind to carry them west. «You know, I used to think of you as a raptor, but I suppose this means you're even less than that, seeing as I've beaten you before without even taking a scratch.»

«This time things will be different,» Ighen growled, clearly bothered by the taunt. «I assure you, you won't be flying home after this fight.»

«Roc shit,» Hironh scoffed. «If you were serious then you would've arranged a proper duel instead of…this.»

«Tch. All you have to talk about is propriety and honor," Ighen hissed, practically spitting out the words. «You're just like all the rest. Are you going to fight me or not?»

«Hmph. I'm the one waiting for you!» Hironh roared, and with this the two dragons flung themselves at each other, talons lashing out as they met in the air.

The dragons bit and tore at one another with equal ferocity as the wind roared past their ears, neither willing to be the first to break free from the melee. They fell as a thrashing ball of limbs, only kicking off each other half a beat before crashing into the ground. Hironh had managed to gain a better position a split second before they parted, and this allowed him to kick Ighen downwards, slowing his descent while speeding up his foe's.

Both dragons took a moment to halt their descent and regain some altitude, but the slight impairment in Hironh's wings lost him whatever advantage he'd gained in their clash. In the end they ended up at nearly the same altitude, both dragons beating laboriously as they fought past the sting of their respective wounds.

Hironh would normally use a more conservative and adept style of fighting, but he knew a prolonged battle would make it more likely for Ighen to notice something was amiss. Managing one's position in combat was already difficult enough, but to do it while subtly leading the opponent away was even harder than Hironh had anticipated. Just as he'd expected, the best option was to end the battle as soon as possible; with this in mind Hironh clenched his teeth and flung himself back into the fight.

The two dragons clashed several more times, though none were as violent as the first. High-intensity fights never lasted very long, and each knew the other was swiftly tiring. Ighen himself was also notably more aggressive than usual, and the palpable desperation that he exuded made him all the more dangerous. Somewhere at the back of his mind, Hironh wondered what caused this change in the normally timid dragon, but such thoughts were swiftly swept away by the rush of combat.

The two exchanged blows one last time, with Hironh gaining the higher position. The blue dragon raked his talons across Ighen's chest, severely hampering his foe's ability to fly…Or so he thought. The red dragon suddenly lunged forth, heedless of his wounds, and pulled himself closer to Hironh, almost embracing his foe as he reached forth and began to tear at his wings. Hironh hissed in pain as he kicked Ighen away, separating the two of them before Ighen could inflict too much damage.

It was then that Hironh abruptly realized they were far closer to the ground than he thought, and flared out his wings – but it was too late. The ground was rising far too quickly, and his left wing was so torn that he couldn't even stabilize himself.

He knew he would not be able to arrest his fall in time, and in the split second before impact Hironh twisted his body, shielding his good wing from the brunt of the impact and sacrificing his left.

He barely had enough time to do this much, and in the next instant he struck the ground. For a moment the durable bones managed to withstand the impact, but then the bulk of his body flattened the limb against the ground, and the malunion, weakened by its unnatural shape, snapped.

Hironh hissed through clenched teeth as he rolled and tumbled across the clearing, each impact sending renewed waves of pain flaring across his body. A sharp keen escaped his body as he finally came to a stop; fierce aches radiated from every part of his being while his gashes stung fiercely, but it was all overshadowed by the overwhelming pain of his broken wing.

Hironh took a few seconds to pull himself back together, then tried to push himself up. It took a few attempts, but he was able to stand, even if the effort made his vision blur. After a beat or two the pain slowly subsided, and Hironh distantly recognized that – save for his wing – he was fortunate not to have suffered any serious injuries in the crash.

It was then that Ighen limped out of the woods, his wounds bleeding freely.

The dragons stared each other down as each assessed the other; Ighen was a short distance away, perhaps fifty of Pryce's meters, and it seemed that his foe had crashed as well, though not quite as badly as he did. Ighen's stance was low and ready even as blood continued to flow from his wounds – not enough to be fatal, but he wouldn't last much longer. It was doubtful that either of them could fly at the moment; if their fight continued it would be on the ground, and it was obvious that Hironh was in significantly better shape if one ignored the state of their wings.

The two dragons glared at one another as they panted and wheezed, neither willing to be the one to suggest an end to their fight. Neither of them had used their flames yet, which told Hironh that Ighen may have saved it for this very outcome.

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«Enough,» Hironh hissed through gritted teeth. «Any more and you will die.»

«Your wing is broken…again. And I am…hurt,» Ighen wheezed, his pupils shifting as his limbs trembled. He did not say it, but he did not need to.

«This is not a duel. I will not kill you, even if I would very much like to,» Hironh growled, though it came out as more of a wheeze.

«What…?» Ighen spat in disbelief. «But why? We are both wounded, and no one would care if…» The red dragon trailed off, and his eyes flickered with uncertainty before he scoffed in disdain. «Fine. If you are so eager to die, then so be it.» He limped backwards as he retreated, and only turned away once it was clear he was not going to be attacked from behind.

Hironh watched as the invader left, his vision beginning to swim as his battle-fever quickly faded. He keened as a wave of exhaustion and pain nearly toppled him, and it took a few beats before he could bring himself to move. His wing ached fiercely no matter how still he kept it, but he did eventually figure out how to limp without pulling on any wounds too badly.

Hironh glanced up to peer at the mountain in the distance. If he were uninjured then he could be home in about twenty beats, but with his wounds…he sighed, bracing himself for the long journey ahead.

As he limped, he felt a small sense of relief that Ighen was too focused on him to notice anything unusual. Hironh's thoughts drifted to the human, and he faintly wondered if Pryce could do anything to fix his wing. It seemed unlikely, but for once he hoped that the strange little crafter would be able to prove him wrong.

Pryce paced back and forth as he awaited Fathom's return. Without the chronometer he had no way of easily knowing how much time had passed, and with nothing better to do he'd resorted to counting the seconds. At first the task had the unexpected benefit of distracting him, but by the time Pryce reached the count of one thousand he'd begun to truly worry.

After two thousand seconds, Pryce began to wonder what he would do if Fathom never came back. Five kilometers of wilderness stood between him and the ship. It'd be dangerous, but he had the rifle, and he could follow the river to the ocean, so it wasn't impossible to cross that distance alone.

No, the real question was what he should do about Fathom. The only explanation for the dragon's continued absence would be if he were either dead or seriously injured. Pryce could try to find and help him in the case of the latter, but that would involve trekking through the forest itself. Thanks to Fathom he was aware of the many dangers that lurked in the trees, and he knew that he would probably die if he ventured into the jungle alone.

Pryce was in the middle of weighing his options when he was interrupted by the sound of talons scrabbling against stone. He rushed outside with rifle in hand and was deeply relieved to see Fathom limping back home, but his joy was short lived as he realized the extent of the dragon's injuries; various cuts and scrapes marred his hide, with rivulets of bright red blood slowly oozing from the deeper gashes. He clearly was in no shape to fly, and was alarmed to see that the dragon's left wing drooped far lower than his right.

"Are you okay?!" Pryce worriedly asked, and set the rifle aside to better examine the wounds.

"Yes," Fathom wheezed, belying his own words.

"Go to your home, sit down, I help you heal," Pryce said, moving to help support the dragon's pained gait. He wasn't sure how much he was actually helping, but together they limped back into Fathom's cave. "What happened?" Pryce asked, as Fathom sat himself down on his bed of furs. Somewhere at the back of his mind he wondered if this was a normal outcome for a fight between dragons, but he was too busy assessing the injuries.

"We fight, both wound the other," Fathom faintly hissed as he sat himself down. "I wound his body more, he wound my wings more, we fall and end the fight."

"You did not kill him?"

"No, fight to kill has rules, I tell you this before," Fathom rumbled absently with his eyes closed.

The lethargic behavior worried Pryce – the dragon's wounds must have been truly painful to stifle his usual acerbic remarks.

"The ship has healing tools. I will go to the ship, bring it here," Pryce firmly said, turning to leave the cave.

"What?" Fathom hissed, his eyes snapping open in surprise. "You can not leave, you will die!"

"You need help healing, and I have rifle," Pryce said, slinging the firearm over his shoulder. "I can kill animals that try to hunt me."

Fathom flattened his spines, and he didn't have to say anything for Pryce to know how skeptical he felt about this plan. "I go with you to ship," he wheezed, and tried to push himself up.

"No, stay," Pryce ordered, pushing Fathom back down – he hadn't expected to succeed, but the dragon wobbled before slumping back down on his bed. "You are weak, and if you fall down outside then I cannot move you."

"I am not…weak," Fathom hissed, with startling aggression.

"You are wounded," Pryce corrected. "If you move, you will make wounds worse, and then you will lose too much blood. Ship is not far away, I will be back soon."

"I will not die like this. You stay here, I heal," Fathom insisted, changing tactics.

Pryce paused. It was a good suggestion, but…was it really true? Not only had Fathom already lost a great deal of blood, but he'd dragged himself through several kilometers of jungle, exposing his wounds to all sorts of infection. Pryce was about to admit that waiting might be a good idea, but then Fathom belted out a wet honking noise that seemed to be his equivalent of a wracking cough.

"Hrgh," Fathom grunted, his convulsions causing blood to spurt anew from the deep gash on his chest.

"I don't think we can wait for you to heal," Pryce said grimly. If Fathom died then he would still have to make the journey. "It is better to go now."

"...Wait," Fathom coughed. He did not immediately continue, and seemed to hesitate in silent deliberation before continuing. "...You will not change plans, yes?"

Pryce shook his head, and Fathom gingerly extended an foreclaw.

"Give me thing that you can wear."

Pryce raised his eyebrow, but dug out a jacket from his backpack to give to Fathom, who proceeded to rub the clothing against the underside of his jaws.

"This will make you smell like me, like dragon. You still need be careful, but animals will go away from you more."

"Oh, thank you," Pryce said, shrugging on the jacket. The jacket didn't smell any different to him save for a faint, spice-like scent, but he'd take any bit of help he could get. "Look at the sky. When I get to ship I will…make fire fly in the sky," Pryce said, trying to describe a flare. "Then I will bring ship here, to river at bottom of this mountain."

"Fire in the sky? Like rocket?" Fathom asked, tilting his head.

"You will know it when you see it," Pryce said, adjusting his glasses. "The ship needs time to start moving. I need three hours to be back. Maybe more."

"...Okay," Fathom nodded, his head lowered in resignation. "I…wait. Do not die."

"I will try not to," Pryce nodded, turning away. With that he began his descent down the mountain, rifle clutched tightly in his hands.

It only took a few minutes to reach the base of the mountain, but from there Pryce's progress slowed considerably. It was almost certainly safer on the beach than it was in the forest, but his experience with the raptors left him feeling like he was going to step on one at any moment.

Pryce made sure to periodically check the jungle, the beach, and the river for any possible threats. Predators were dangerous, but they tended to be cautious and calculating. Herbivores on the other hand were often more aggressive, and certainly far less predictable. The only large animals in sight at the moment were a group of what appeared to be crocodiles, who seemed content to remain in shallows of the riverbank. These creatures appeared quite similar to the crocodiles on the Mainland, albeit far larger, though Pryce doubted that they were closely related at all.

That thought was abruptly answered when one of the creatures pulled itself onto the opposite bank, revealing three pairs of legs.

Pryce maintained a cautious distance from the creatures as he followed the slight bend of the estuary, on occasion he would see hints of larger animals in the deeper parts of the river. Usually he'd barely see anything more than a tumultuous wake, but every once in a while a finned tail would just barely break the surface before disappearing into the deep.

These sightings were unnerving, but at least they couldn't hurt him. Pryce was much more concerned about the thick foliage of the jungle, which could be concealing all sorts of dangerous animals at any given moment.

On the other hand, time was of the essence. With this in mind, Pryce alternated between jogging and briskly walking down the beach, all while doing his best to survey the surrounding area for any threats. The shoreline was sandy, but fortunately leaves, branches, and other such debris littered the ground, making it difficult for any raptors to conceal themselves. Even so it was difficult for him to be certain that it was safe to proceed, especially when biting insects were a constant distraction. Pryce had already been bitten numerous times since arriving on Loahm, but the bugs here were far worse than the ones around the ship. He couldn't ignore them either – the diseases that they might be carrying could kill him just as easily as any dangerous animal.

Pryce continued making his way down the beach in this manner for about half an hour, his nerves steadily fraying. He abruptly froze as he noticed movement in the forest – a herd of hexapedal and somewhat deer-like creatures were steadily making their way through the trees. They obviously weren't fleeing, which was good – that meant the surrounding area was most likely safe from predators.

Pryce decided to use this opportunity to take a short break; the journey was more tiring than expected, and maintaining constant vigilance was easier said than done. After a minute he took a deep breath and continued on his way. The river continued to grow in width as he neared the ocean, and in ten minutes the estuary finally gave way to the open ocean.

For a moment relief flowed through his veins, but then he threw a quick glance back at the forest and almost tripped as he caught a glimpse of white moving through the trees. His blood ran cold as he realized it was almost certainly a 'white tiger' that Fathom told him about. Pryce had no way to know if the creature was alone or not, but Fathom said that these creatures often hunted in packs.

He warily watched the trees with the rifle at the ready, but after a minute it became clear that the tiger was maintaining its distance. He briefly considered scaring them off with a warning shot, but a second later he decided to save his bullets. Perhaps the tiger was trying to stalk him back to his home, or perhaps it was kept at bay by Fathom's scent, but either way his best bet was to make it to the safety of the ship.

Pryce was careful not to let anything sneak up on him as he backed up along the beach, but it was difficult not to run when he could see something stalking him through the trees.

It had taken far too long, but he finally made it back to the base of the ship. The stern gate could only be opened from the inside, but a ladder was located along the side of the hull in case of emergencies. He threw another glance at the forest as his hand grasped the first rung – it seemed that the tiger seemed content to watch him for now, so he wasted no time in scrambling up the ladder.

There was no way to properly defend himself while on a ladder – Pryce was forced to simply climb as fast as he possibly could, and nearly fell onto the deck in his haste.

He took a few moments just to breathe, now that he was finally safe. His heart rate gradually returned to normal as the accumulated stress of the long journey drained out of him, but he couldn't rest for long – Fathom still needed his help, and so he pushed himself up and got to work.